Chapter Text
Sara watched as Zari accompanied Ray back to the lab.
Sara knew Ray didn’t want attention right now, and she also knew he needed help. Because it had been captivity and torture, she knew that what he wanted and chose had to be honored—and she was going to do her damndest to make sure he had all the support he needed.
This wasn’t their first rodeo with this sort of thing, of course. (That phrase would now forever remind her of their trips to the Wild West.) Rip had been a tormented mess long before he’d recruited them, and though it had taken them all a while to figure it out, she knew that Gideon had done things for Rip—fancy futuristic meds, maybe other kinds of therapy.
When she thought of Rip, she wasn’t sure she trusted the efficacy of what Gideon had done, but Sara didn’t know if the problem there was Time Master era therapy (did they have an era?), or Rip himself.
But then there’d been Mick Rory, brainwashed and tortured by the Time Masters, and yet Mick had somehow managed to come back to them and had only betrayed them, what, three times since then?—and the first had been before Gideon had had a chance to do very much. She remembered it had been Ray who’d tried to talk to Rip about what Mick had gone through. Rip had been dismissive, saying Gideon would handle it, and Ray had not been satisfied and had pointed out that this only worked if Mick agreed.
Sara later found out that Ray had talked directly with Mick, and knew that he’d talked Mick into accepting help. Of course, Mick’s most obvious self-medication was the alcohol, but Sara suspected Mick and Gideon had an arrangement, something extra added to the beer.
As Captain, Sara had made a point to check in and make whatever arrangements seemed to be needed after some of their more traumatic adventures. Martin had been in a kind of shock after being tortured by Eobard Thawne in the 20s. And she’d sat down with him and Jax—who already knew just about everything, and that had made it both simpler and so much more complicated.
But now—she couldn’t just tell the rest of the crew. She wanted to. But Ray didn’t want that, and she could relate to wanting to hide from others’ worries and from herself.
However, she’d learned a few tricks as Captain. Maybe Rip’s example wasn’t the best to follow—or maybe this was her dad she was emulating—but she knew a way she could rally people without revealing too much.
Guilt.
It didn’t take long to have quiet conversations with the rest of the crew about how they’d all not noticed Ray’s absence right away, Nate and Amaya preoccupied with each other, Mick with his drink. How it had been the dishes piling high that had been the first indication.
So she reminded them of that, and of how they were lucky to have Ray back. How very easily they might not have had him back, ever.
Then she pointed out how he was obsessed as usual with his project in the lab, and he was likely to forget to eat, or sleep.
They were all used to this, of course.
At these reminders, Nate squirmed and looked uncomfortable. Amaya became solemn-faced and thoughtful. Mick grunted.
They were all on board with helping remind him to take breaks or eat. Nate promised he’d try to get a Star Trek marathon going and Amaya mentioned talking with Ray about the totems, since he was now working to reconstruct one.
Both of them talked about preparing some food based on recipes from Amaya’s village.
As for Mick—he made no such promises, but she saw something guarded in his eyes (well, when did she not?).
“Haircut was gone for a while.”
Sara shrugged. “Longer for him than for us, I think,” she said, not revealing anything out loud.
He stared at her a moment, meaningfully, and Sara thought Mick might suspect something. Later she saw him watching Ray in the galley, and she knew he’d picked up that something was wrong. Sara trusted that Mick would in his own way look after Ray.
Later, she saw Mick sitting next to Ray in the galley as Ray worked furiously on equations and ignored his food, or as Ray worked on the dishes. Mick didn’t say much, he was just there. Sara smiled to herself, knowing this was precisely what Ray needed.
Wally was a whole different story. Sara didn’t try to hint at a reason for guilt, with him, and—he’d seen. Sara was worried he’d spill everything, but she needn’t have.
“It was bad for him, wasn’t it?” The kid looked all too knowing, making Sara wonder what his own adventures had been. “Let me know if I can help,” he’d simply said then, and then had kept his mouth shut.
“Look in on him in the lab when you get a chance—there’ll be no more leaning on tables to sleep, there’s a cot in there for him now. Ask him about his work.”
Wally smiled and happily agreed to do this.